


Learning Curve

by psychoadept



Series: Adonis in Exile [2]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-11-24
Updated: 2004-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:24:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psychoadept/pseuds/psychoadept
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately after Dressing Down.  Giles and Wesley try to figure out their new relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Curve

Wesley awoke gradually, feeling a deeper sense of contentment than he had in years. His hand automatically groped for his glasses, and he opened his eyes in alarm when it encountered only air. Then the memory of where he was and what had happened returned. He relaxed again with a silent, "Oh..." and smiled so broadly that his face began to ache before he managed to rein it in.

All things being equal, he could have lain there for some time, warm and comfortable and slightly giddy, but his bladder and stomach had other ideas. Reluctantly, he tossed back the covers, belatedly remembering that he was still naked. He looked around for the towel he'd brought up the night before and discovered his clothes neatly folded on the chair instead, topped by his glasses and a note. Touched by Giles' thoughtfulness, he put on his glasses and read:

Wesley--  
I had to go to work, but I saw no reason to wake you. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen, and please be sure the door is locked when you leave.  
\--Giles

Wesley wasn't sure what he'd expected, but this wasn't it. The neutral tone of the note and signature, and the fact that Giles said nothing of the previous night, made Wesley think Giles was dismissing him. They were to go on as if it hadn't happened. His high spirits came crashing down, and the impact left a dull ache in his chest. He could almost hear his father's voice telling him how naive he was for believing that Giles' kindness was motivated by anything more than pity. That's all he was--pitiful. Pathetic, Giles had said, but it amounted to the same thing.

He swallowed the lump that rose in his throat and dressed quickly. The demands of his body forced him to use Giles' bathroom, but he decided to breakfast at home, preferring to escape the reminders that once again he had failed to measure up. He wondered whether it would have made a difference if he hadn't been too tired to return Giles' attentions, or if he'd let the older man have his way from the start.

He tried to stop second-guessing himself, but was distracted on the drive back to the hotel and twice caught himself turning into the wrong lane. Backward Americans. He ate something from the hotel's cafeteria without really tasting it. The ritual of shaving calmed him a bit, as did the brief shower he took to get his hair into a semblance of order.

He was sitting on the sofa, his trousers on and his shirt halfway buttoned when he wound down completely, couldn't make himself keep moving anymore. He slumped forward and put his head in his hands with a harsh sigh. He didn't want to go to the library. He didn't want to face Giles. He didn't want to see his own inadequacy reflected in the older man's eyes, couldn't bear knowing that the best sex of his life was worse than meaningless, was a bribe to get him to accept Giles' ultimatum. It didn't help that a large part of him wanted nothing more than to feel Giles' hands on him again, siphoning away his tension with that sure touch.

Wesley felt a telltale prickle behind his eyes and snarled at himself, banishing the tears to a little room in his mind and slamming the door on them. He would go to the library because to do anything else would be to admit to Giles, to his father, and to the rest of the world that they were right, he wasn't good enough, and never would be.

He finished dressing, gathered his things, and left.

* * *

Giles was reading at the table when Wesley entered the library.

"Good morning, Wesley," he said.

"Good morning," Wesley replied, smiling with an effort.

"How are you?" Giles asked as Wesley set his briefcase on the table and began taking out books and papers.

"I'm fine," Wesley said evenly. He sat down and opened his journal to try to record what had happened with Faith.

"You're a terrible liar, Wesley."

Wesley snapped the journal closed and glared at Giles. "Do you really care?"

Giles flinched at Wesley's tone but didn't look away. "Yes, I do."

Wesley sighed and let his anger fade. He racked his brain for something to say that would satisfy Giles, without success.

The silence dragged on until Giles said, "We're stuck with each other, so whatever's bothering you let's have it out now."

Wesley could hear Giles' temper fraying, and his own anger rose again in response. "Would you rather I stayed at home? You'd only have to ring me when you need my signature on something. Or better yet, have Buffy drop it by during patrol. Then you won't even have to speak to me."

Giles was silent for several seconds, then stood. "Let's continue this in my office."

"Why? So you can remind me again how worthless I am?"

Giles was silent for so long that Wesley finally looked at him to see why. The older man was just studying him with a mild, unreadable expression.

"I don't think you're worthless," Giles said gently, then repeated, "Can we continue this in my office--for privacy's sake?"

Wesley sighed, but rose and preceded Giles into the office. The older man shut the door behind them.

"I think there's been a miscommunication," Giles began, once they were both seated. "Understandable, considering how melodramatic I was being last night. To clarify: I still expect you to act as Buffy and Faith's Watcher. In fact, you'll have my full support, provided you don't make any irrevocable decisions without my approval."

Wesley considered. "They won't know about our--agreement?"

Giles shook his head. "No. No one's going to be helped by my undermining what little credibility you have left. Since you're here, you may as well learn from the experience, maybe even do some good."

"You'll not be undercutting my authority anymore?" Wesley gave Giles a meaningful stare.

Giles matched Wesley's stare perfectly. "As long as you don't abuse it."

Wesley pursed his lips in thought, then nodded, still not thrilled with the situation but convinced he could live with it.

"I can teach you a lot, if you'll let me," Giles added, then chuckled. "But I have no intention of doing your job for you, not when you're the one getting the salary."

Wesley nodded again. "All right." He could feel the weight of responsibility settling on his chest again, for all that he was glad he was getting a second chance at being a Watcher. He would never admit it, but part of him had been relieved when he thought Giles was taking that burden away from him.

Giles interrupted his thoughts, asking, "Are we ‘good'?"

Wesley hesitated, unsure how to approach the topic of sex, but unable to let it lie. He squirmed in his chair, plucking at the knees of his trousers, until Giles said in a warning tone, "Wesley..."

Wesley gulped. "What happened--why did you--that is--" He stopped and took a deep breath. "Did you just feel sorry for me?" he blurted, finally.

"Oh," Giles said, a look of revelation crossing his face. "Is that why you're upset?"

"I didn't want a--a pity fuck." Wesley spat out the obscenity like something rotten.

Giles shook his head in confusion. "What? It wasn't--" He sighed. "You seemed comfortable enough with what we did last night. What changed?"

"Your note--I thought--" Wesley stopped, unable to verbalize his fear and feeling like an idiot trying. Easier to assume he'd misunderstood. "Never mind."

"Thought what, Wesley?"

"I--that--that you didn't want-- Can you just leave it be?"

"No, I don't think I can. I've hurt you, although I can't think how, or what it has to do with the note I left..."

Giles' touch on his wrist was like an electric shock, and Wesley jerked away. Giles withdrew his hand.

"You thought I didn't want--what? You?"

Wesley shrugged, avoiding Giles' searching gaze. Giles had already seen too much of his insecurities; Wesley didn't want to reveal any more.

"Would it help if I said there's nothing I'd like more right now than to take you home, tie you down, and shag you senseless?" Giles asked, his tone conveying only mild curiosity.

Wesley looked up in surprise, eyes widening at Giles' bluntness. The phrase "tie you down" did something to his stomach that he couldn't decide whether he liked or not.

"What?" Giles said, smiling in amusement. "Is it so hard to believe that I find you irresistible?"

Wesley gulped. "Irr-- But you didn't say--" He stopped, sick of his inability to do anything but stammer broken phrases, and fixed Giles with a hard stare. "Show me," he demanded.

* * *

Giles blinked in surprise at Wesley's uncharacteristic boldness. He hesitated only an instant before sliding out of his chair and tangling his hand in Wesley's hair, tipping the younger man's head back so he could kiss him hard, deeply. He tried to pour all his desire into it, to tell Wesley with every sweep and thrust of his tongue just how much he wanted him, wanted to fuck him, wanted to own him, wanted to hear him scream with pleasure and beg for more...

Giles broke the kiss abruptly, gasping. "Convinced?" he growled.

"Yes, quite," Wesley said, almost a whimper, making Giles want to kiss him again. The man's reactions were so wanton.

Giles forced himself to let Wesley go and sat down again. When the younger man seemed calm enough to think clearly, Giles said, "I mean it, Wesley. I'm not interested in ‘victory shags' or ‘pity fucks.'"

Wesley nodded dumbly, still looking a bit stunned.

Giles considered carefully how to proceed. His instincts screamed at him that Wesley was his to do with as he pleased, had been his since the younger man walked in the door the night before, if not since Giles had decided that Wesley's behavior needed to be dealt with definitively. Those instincts gave him all the more reason to proceed cautiously. He had no intention of letting Wesley get away from him with anything short of a flat-out "no," and he knew the fastest way to get that would be too push the hypersensitive young man too hard.

That was why, especially after Wesley's accusation of coercion, he hadn't wanted to do or say anything that would make the younger man feel obligated to continue to sleep with him. Now apparently Wesley had misinterpreted his caution as lack of interest. Damned if you do...

He sighed and locked gazes with Wesley, making sure he had the younger man's full attention. "Do you believe me when I say that whether or not you have sex with me will have no bearing on our professional relationship?"

Wesley nodded, and Giles smiled in relief. "And I take it you want to?"

Wesley nodded again.

Giles was briefly tempted to close the blinds and give him another blow job right there in the office, just for the joy of seeing Wesley's reaction, but Wesley's propensity for loud noises prohibited it. Maybe later, if he could teach the man some self-control, but the last thing they needed was Buffy charging to the ‘rescue' because someone heard Wesley shrieking.

"What's funny?" Wesley asked in response to Giles' snort of laughter.

"Nothing, sorry. How's this: if you don't change your mind in the mean time, you can come to my flat tonight, after Buffy returns from patrol."

"Yes, all right," Wesley agreed, failing to contain the eagerness in his voice.

Giles smiled in anticipation and added teasingly, "Probably wouldn't hurt to bring an overnight bag. Now, is there anything else we need to clear up?"

Wesley shook his head, so Giles forced his mind back to more immediate concerns. "Then let's try to get some work done. Have you called the Council about Faith's escape?"

* * *

Wesley stood for a small eternity with his hand raised to knock on Giles' door. His life had developed a certain unreality, like several years had passed since the previous morning. Maybe he was still asleep on his couch and the last twenty-four hours had been a dream.

He was randier than he'd been since university. He'd been acutely aware of Giles' physical presence all day, sensitive to everything the older man did. Giles' behavior hadn't helped any; he took advantage of every opportunity to touch Wesley while they worked. He'd put a hand on Wesley's shoulder and leaned in too close as they looked at a book together, his breath tickling Wesley's neck and cheek, his scent strong in Wesley's nostrils. The subtle aggression made Wesley uncomfortable, but he didn't have the will to object, enjoying the contact too much. He wasted no time in getting home and changing after Buffy went home for the night.

Now he hesitated, part of his mind gibbering in terror, knowing that the farther he pursued this thing with Giles, the more it would hurt when Giles got tired of him and told him to bugger off. But the memory of how good it had felt when Giles touched him and the knowledge that Giles wanted him now were more than enough motivation to overcome his fears about a theoretical later. He finally screwed up his courage and rapped sharply.

After a few seconds, Giles opened the door and stood back for Wesley to enter, smiling faintly. Wesley noted with approval that Giles didn't actually invite him in.

"Hello, Wesley."

"Rupert," he replied tentatively as he stepped inside.

Giles' smile widened and he nodded slightly in response to Wesley's use of his first name. "I can take those," he offered, reaching for Wesley's suit and overnight bag.

Wesley turned them over and watched Giles disappear into the hall, wondering idly if the other man was aware how nicely his braces framed his arse when they hung loose like that. He shook his head in dismay at the turn of his thoughts, then again at the absurdity of being bothered by admiring Giles' arse when he'd come here for the express purpose of having sex with the other man.

 

Banishing all thoughts of Giles' arse from his mind for the moment, Wesley put his jacket on the coat rack and took his first truly good look at the flat. It felt a bit like looking into Giles' mind: cluttered from use but obviously tidied regularly, the furniture eclectic yet somehow part of a consistent whole, the loft instead of a bedroom giving it a unique character that appealed to Wesley in a way he couldn't explain.

When Giles returned to the lounge, they stared at each other nervously until Giles said, "Are you sure about this?"

Wesley nodded, forcing himself to meet Giles' gaze. He laid aside his glasses and stepped forward, then hesitated, unsure how to initiate contact.

Giles solved the dilemma for him by putting his hands on either side of Wesley's face and pressing their lips together, more by way of a greeting or a promise than an actual kiss. Then Giles dropped his hands to Wesley's shoulders and pushed him gently but firmly towards the wall by the bar. The instant his back hit the wall, Wesley could see the predatory spark light up Giles' eyes and he suddenly couldn't get enough air.

"You think I don't want you?" Giles asked as he began unbuttoning Wesley's shirt, his voice a low purr that seemed to run down Wesley's spine and pool in his balls. "I've wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. The way you act, so uptight, so prissy, you're just asking for someone to loosen you up, make you lose control."

Between Giles' tone and the excruciating slowness with which Giles was opening his shirt, Wesley found it difficult to concentrate on the actual words. Having Giles' hands so close to him, fingertips and knuckles brushing him constantly through his shirt but never actually touching him, was driving him crazy. He wanted to shake the older man and tell him to get on with it, already, but he knew instinctively that trying to rush Giles would only make things worse.

When Giles asked, "Do you want to lose control, Wesley?" it was a few seconds before the question registered, and a few more before Wesley could muster a response. Even then, he only managed an uncomprehending, "Huh?"

Giles chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes," he said, and then his hands stopped moving altogether.

Wesley whined in frustration. "What--?"

"Relax." Giles reached up and stroked Wesley's cheek. Wesley sighed in relief and leaned into the touch, the haze of desire lifting a little at the solid contact.

"I need you to focus a minute."

Wesley nodded his understanding.

"You promise you'll stop me if you don't like what I'm doing?"

Wesley nodded again.

"All right. I don't want to overdo it."

"You're not," Wesley murmured as Giles continued to caress his face. When Giles' thumb brushed across his lips, his tongue darted out, seemingly of its own accord, to lick Giles' finger. Wesley froze, startled by his own audacity, but Giles just raised his eyebrows and used the weight of his hand to ease Wesley's mouth open, then slid his thumb inside.

Wesley closed his mouth and sucked nervously. Giles hummed and gave him an encouraging smile, so Wesley pushed aside his hesitation and focused on the sensation of Giles' thumb in his mouth, surprised by how much it turned him on. He could feel the whorls of the fingerprint and the smoothness of the nail with his tongue, and the older man tasted of sweat and soap, salty and bitter and faintly metallic.

The simple rhythm of sucking lulled Wesley into an almost meditative state until Giles withdrew his thumb. He wiped the saliva on Wesley's cheeks, where it left twin streaks of cool sensation as it evaporated, and said, "I think we're getting sidetracked. Where was I?" His hands returned to Wesley's shirt and a small, wicked smile spread across his face. "Oh, yes. Making you lose control."

Wesley braced himself for another slow torment, but to his relief Giles finished unbuttoning his shirt at normal speed. He pushed it off Wesley's shoulders without untucking it, leaving Wesley's arms caught in the sleeves. When Wesley started to shrug it the rest of the way off, Giles said, "Don't. I like the way this looks."

Giles smiled lopsidedly, running his eyes and then his hands over Wesley in a way that made Wesley's banked arousal flare up again, even as he felt himself reddening under the scrutiny. He squeaked in surprise when Giles bit his chin lightly, then dropped his head back against the wall with a whimper as the bite segued into a flurry of licks and nibbles that trailed along his jaw and down his throat, ending with another light bite on Wesley's shoulder. Giles' hands were moving purposefully, too, tugging Wesley's nipples until he cried out and arched his back, then sliding under his shirt, down his back, and into his jeans.

Wesley's hips bucked when Giles squeezed his arse, and their erections rubbed together through layers of cloth. They both groaned then. Wesley tried to pull away, but Giles used his grip on Wesley's arse to hold them together, grinding against Wesley and muting his moans with a hard kiss. Wesley surrendered to Giles' touch, feeling every thrust of the older man's hips mirrored by a swipe of his tongue or a bite at Wesley's lips, and h wasn't sure whether his sob was from relief or disappointment when Giles finally stopped. His cock was straining painfully against his jeans, demanding friction.

Giles pulled his hands out of the back of Wesley's jeans only to reach down and squeeze the bulge in front. Wesley made a strangled noise and staggered against the wall as his knees turned to jelly. Giles continued to knead his erection mercilessly until Wesley drew enough air to gasp out, "Please, dear God, please..."

A moment later Giles was unzipping Wesley's jeans, reaching inside and grasping Wesley's erection, and Wesley shuddered with relief, too breathless to make much noise. He managed to remain quiet as Giles threaded his cock free of his briefs, but when it scraped against the cold, sharp teeth of his zipper he yelped in pain.

"Sorry," Giles said sincerely, pushing Wesley's jeans farther down.

Wesley groaned when Giles stepped back to admire him like a work of art. "Giles," he pleaded, pushing his hips forward, desperation driving him beyond embarrassment.

Giles licked his lips once, lasciviously, then closed in and wrapped his hand around the base of Wesley's cock again. "Shh," he breathed in Wesley's ear, as he began to pump Wesley's erection without finesse. "I wouldn't leave you like that. You're just so beautiful... I wanted to savor it."

Wesley barely heard Giles' words, thrusting into the other man's hand arrhythmically, trying and failing to find a pattern to Giles' movements. He was forced to reevaluate Giles' technique, as Giles seemed determined--and able--to stave off his orgasm for as long as possible. Somehow Giles never gave him quite enough stimulation, slowing down when Wesley needed him to speed up, loosening his grip when Wesley needed him to tighten it, until each of Wesley's moans became a plea. It felt like an eternity before Giles finally settled into a hard, fast rhythm that was enough to push Wesley over the edge. He came with a scream and didn't even feel it when he slammed his head into the wall.

* * *

Giles was pleased to see that he hadn't lost his touch, as Wesley's come coated his fingers, though he winced in sympathy at the thump of the other man's head against the wall. He let the motion of his hand slow and stop as Wesley's hips did. The younger man slumped against the wall, eyes closed and cock going soft, so Giles let go. He wiped his hand on his trousers and, after a moment, reached out to gently tug Wesley's shirt back onto his shoulders.

Wesley's eyes fluttered open at the touch and he looked around blearily. When he took in the puddle of semen on the floor and the streaks of it on Giles' shirt and both their trousers, his mortification was comical.

"Um. Sorry," he said, blushing.

Giles laughed, feeling a surge of affection for the younger man, who could be so unrestrained one minute and so inhibited the next. "I'm more concerned about your head. You banged it pretty hard." He prodded the back of Wesley's skull with his fingertips, garnering a wince. "I could give you some ice for that," he offered.

Wesley shook his head. "It's not so bad."

"No, it's not," Giles agreed, smiling crookedly. "Honestly, I'm a bit jealous. None of my head injuries have been so pleasurably acquired."

Wesley ducked his head, but not before Giles saw the sheepish grin that flickered across the younger man's face.

"I'll get something to clean this up," he continued, wanting to give Wesley a moment of privacy to pull himself together.

Wesley nodded and Giles retreated to the bathroom. He had to admit that he could use a few minutes alone, too, as he allowed himself to pay attention to his raging arousal at last. It had waned a little since Wesley's orgasm but waxed again as he recalled how the younger man had looked, slouched against the wall with his shirt halfway off and his cock sprouting from his open jeans like Pinocchio's nose, revealing his prim-and-proper attitude for the lie it was. Giles squeezed his own erection through his trousers, grunting softly with relief.

Last night, he really hadn't intended to do anything more than intimidate Wesley into cooperation, but the encounter had awakened a part of him that craved possession and control. The moment he'd noticed Wesley's arousal the whole thing had become rather inevitable. The younger man was far too eager to give up his power, though, and like a vampire with a john, Giles would have to be careful to take just enough to keep them both coming back for more.

To that end, he ignored the instinct to drag Wesley upstairs and thoroughly sodomize him, and the more insidious compulsion to wank again, denying Wesley the right to participate at all. Giles knew his reluctance to let someone else touch him was irrational, just an echo of what Angelus had done to him. Wesley certainly wasn't going to hurt him. Indeed, Wesley's innocent, uncomplicated desire shamed him by its contrast to his own dissolution, and he swore a private vow not to drag Wesley into the darkness with him.

Regretfully removing his hand from his groin, he recalled his original purpose in coming to the bathroom and grabbed a hand towel before heading back into the hall. He paused when he saw Wesley sitting on the landing. The younger man hadn't noticed him, was just sitting there, elbows on knees and head in his hands. He looked his age for once, rather than a 12-year-old in a body two sizes two big. Unfortunately, the added maturity was the result of a forlorn look on Wesley's face, a look that made him seem more human and more vulnerable than he ever had before.

Giles felt several things simultaneously: guilt that he might have caused that look, a paternal urge to make it go away, and a sort of angry indifference that said this was just another manifestation of Wesley's insecurities. Then all of those feelings faded as he realized he was seeing not some passing reaction but the foundation on which all of Wesley's sanctimony and arrogance stood.

Knowing he'd intruded on something too personal to pry into, at least not until they knew each other much better, Giles deliberately let his feet slap the floor as he stepped the rest of the way into the room. Wesley's head shot up, his face morphing instantly into the more familiar deer-in-headlights stare. He started to rise, but Giles waved him back down.

"I've got it," he said, making quick work of the mess on the floor. He returned to the bathroom to put the towel in the hamper, then shucked his shirt and trousers into the hamper, as well. Some strange sense of modesty, more for Wesley's sake than his own, prompted him to put on a t-shirt before he left the bathroom again, and he took another towel with him, anticipating a need for more clean-up.

As he climbed the steps, Giles extended his hand and pulled Wesley upright. They stared at each other awkwardly, much as they had when Wesley arrived, but this time Wesley broke the silence.

"Do you want me to--?" His eyes flickered nervously to the bulge in Giles' shorts.

"That's up to you," Giles said, releasing Wesley's hand to slide his own along the younger man's arm. "Whatever you're comfortable with."

"Oh." Wesley eyes widened in alarm for a moment, and then he ran his hands tentatively across Giles' chest. "I want to," he said, his voice sounding less sure than his words, and smiled an ingenuous smile that made Giles' heart skip a beat.

Giles smiled back, trying not to twitch as Wesley's fingers unknowingly brushed his nipples. "Of course. I'm all yours. Though I think we'd be more comfortable upstairs."

"Hmm? Oh, yes," Wesley agreed. He pulled his hands away with obvious reluctance, and Giles let him lead the way up the steps.

In the loft, Giles laid the towel on the chair and his glasses on the nightstand, but when he started to take his shirt off, Wesley said, "Let me do that."

Giles dropped his hands back to his sides and stood still as Wesley moved close. He slid his hands up Giles' sides, pulling the shirt with them. Giles lifted his arms to allow Wesley to take it off over his head, then fought the urge to grab Wesley and kiss him, knowing it was just an instinctive desire to take back control. Wesley looked at him uncertainly as his fingers slid into the waistband of Giles' boxers, and Giles nodded. He closed his eyes as the silk slid over the head of his cock, then kicked the shorts away when they fell to his feet.

Wesley was gazing at him with the same slack-jawed, almost child-like awe as he had the day before. Giles knew his physique was good, three years of Slayer training had seen to that, but he hardly thought himself deserving of the adulation that Wesley was giving him. To distract the younger man, he cleared his throat and said, "You're a little overdressed, don't you think?"

Wesley, predictably, blushed and stammered, but to his credit he wasted no time in getting out of his clothes. Giles sat on the bed and watched, thinking that if either of them were worthy of adulation, it was Wesley. He would have been content to admire the lean, finely muscled form for much longer than the half a minute it took Wesley to undress and climb onto the bed with him. He ran a hand over Wesley's enticingly smooth bum as the younger man moved past him, earning a yelp and an attempt at a glare that ended up more of a pout.

He smiled innocently and murmured, "Irresistible."

To his surprise, rather than go into further paroxysms of embarrassment, Wesley surged forward and kissed him aggressively, if a bit awkwardly. Giles responded, trying to guide the uncertain movement of Wesley's tongue with his own, instead of taking over the kiss as he was inclined to do. After a few moments Wesley caught the rhythm of it and Giles backed off, enjoying the feel of Wesley's tongue tickling his palate and exploring the contours of his mouth. He didn't resist when Wesley pushed him down on his back, and when Wesley's thigh pressed into his groin, he purred into the younger man's mouth.

Then Wesley broke the kiss and Giles found himself staring up into panicked blue eyes. To forestall the apology he could see coming, he whispered, "Don't stop now..."

Wesley shook himself and a made a face that could have been a grin or a grimace. "Right." He shifted so that he was lying on his side next to Giles. His hip accidentally rubbed the head of Giles' cock as he moved, drawing an involuntary gasp.

Giles laid his head back and closed his eyes, committing himself to letting the younger man give him pleasure, but Wesley failed to do anything more than comb his fingers through Giles' chest hair. Opening his eyes again, Giles forced himself to think through his arousal. He peered closely at the younger man, wondering if Wesley's hesitation was due to more than simple nervousness.

He laid a hand over Wesley's, stilling the tremulous fingers. "Wesley," he asked, "had you had sex at all before last night?"

Wesley yanked his hand away, spluttering in outrage. "I--you think-- Of course I had."

Giles blinked away the urge to laugh out loud at Wesley's indignation before replying. "Yes, of course. How silly of me."

Wesley pouted, clearly aware that Giles was laughing at him and just as clearly hurt by it. Giles felt like he'd kicked a puppy.

"I'm sorry," he said, turning to face Wesley and rubbing the younger man's shoulder contritely. "I'm not trying to insult you. But it's obvious you're not very experienced."

Wesley's face crumpled in shame and he looked away. "Maybe I shouldn't-- It might be simpler if you just--fucked me."

Giles cursed inwardly at the impossibility of navigating Wesley's minefield of insecurities, while part of him conjured up a fantasy of flipping Wesley over on the spot and taking him hard. It was an easy temptation to resist, as he realized that sometime in the last few minutes he'd gone from being reluctant to let Wesley touch him to actively desiring it. It would be nice to let someone do to him for a change--if he could only get Wesley back on board.

After another instant's hesitation, he tipped Wesley's head back and kissed him lightly, just parting the younger man's lips with his tongue. When he pulled away, Wesley seemed calmer, so Giles drew Wesley's hand back to his chest, letting his breath catch as he deliberately dragged Wesley's fingertips across his nipple. To Giles' relief, Wesley took the cue and his hand began to explore Giles' chest again more confidently.

"Better?" Giles asked, as his body demanded his attention in response to Wesley's tentative, but no longer timid, touches on his neck, his chest, his stomach, even his thighs.

Wesley nodded without looking up from what he was doing, so Giles rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, letting arousal once more subsume his thoughts. He was so lost in the feel of Wesley's fingers dancing over his skin and the unrelenting ache of his cock that, when Wesley's tongue teased the almost-closed hole in his ear, his hips twitched upward before he could stop them. He chuckled under his breath as Wesley sucked the earlobe into his mouth, thinking that if Wesley's artless attentions were enough to break his self-control it really had been too long since anyone had done this to him. Then again, Wesley had already proven his ability to evoke, without even trying, the same responses that required a concerted effort from Ethan.

Wesley's mouth found its way down Giles' throat and along the ridge of his collarbone, but instead of proceeding to his chest as Giles expected, Wesley drew Giles' right arm to him and fitted his mouth over the scar on the inside of Giles' elbow. For just an instant, Giles felt the stab of fangs piercing his skin again. He stiffened and opened his eyes, but Wesley was tonguing the scar reverently, the velvet heat a stark contrast to clammy cold and sharp pain, and Giles found the gesture suddenly, intensely arousing.

"God, Wes," he groaned, and could feel Wesley's lips tighten in a smile against his arm.

He curled his hand in Wesley's hair as Wesley finally released the arm and lowered his head to Giles' navel, then began licking his way back up. Giles managed to resist the urge to clutch and hold Wesley's head until the younger man nibbled painlessly on his nipple. He felt Wesley tense at the rough grip and loosened his hold again, reminding himself that Wesley wasn't Ethan and wouldn't appreciate having a cock shoved down his throat. And while he knew from experience that he could come without anyone ever touching his cock, he also knew his fraying self-control wouldn't last long enough for that.

"Wesley," he grated, "unless you plan to restrain me, I suggest for both our sakes that you direct your attention... lower."

Wesley stared up at him wide-eyed, and Giles could see a hint of panic returning. "Um, yes, right," he stammered out, and moved to do as Giles asked.

Giles groaned with relief as Wesley's hand closed around his shaft, and it took all his remaining willpower to stay still while Wesley gathered the courage to peel back the foreskin and rub his thumb over the head. Giles' hips bucked at that and a strangled sound escaped his lips. He gave in to the need to talk, keeping up a monologue of encouragement--"Yes... oh Lord, Wes... like that..."--as Wesley stroked him with growing surety. When Wesley leaned over him and rolled a nipple between his teeth again, Giles locked a hand in Wesley's hair and didn't let go until he came with a long, shuddering groan.

Giles released Wesley's head as soon as the fog of pleasure cleared from his brain, but Wesley didn't even seem to hear his apology, staring at the sticky mess on his hand and Giles' stomach in shock. Giles rolled his eyes in exasperation and pulled Wesley back down for a gentle, lingering kiss.

"Thank you," he said as he let Wesley go. That earned him a delighted grin, but Wesley still seemed to be at a loss, so Giles rescued him by adding, "Would you be so kind as to hand me that towel? Feel free to use it first."

* * *

Wesley practically leapt for the towel, wiping his hand on it before passing it to Giles. His heart was hammering disconcertingly, and keeping his breathing quiet and even took conscious effort. He hadn't expected bringing Giles off to be such an ordeal. The paralyzing fear of--something--that he'd pushed aside to get it done was seeping back into his consciousness despite his best efforts to ignore it, drowning the tiny voice that dared to suggest he should be proud of himself. He could have done better. He would have done better, if only he hadn't been so petrified... but that was only an excuse. And here he was about to humiliate himself further by having a nervous breakdown in front of Giles.

Giles' hand on his shoulder made him start, but he managed to restrict his yelp to a harsh fricative.

"Wesley? Good Lord, what's wrong? You're shaking."

Wesley could barely hear Giles' words through the white noise in his head, but he finally processed the question and glanced over his shoulder. "Just nerves," he said, in a voice that was inexplicably calm.

"Oh, for God's-- Here."

Wesley made a half-hearted attempt to shrug off Giles' hands, but in the end he let Giles manhandle him under the covers. He very nearly came unglued when the older man spooned up behind him and wrapped his arms around Wesley's waist, shushing Wesley's reflexive protest, because as awful as it was for Giles to see his weakness, being offered the comfort he craved when he knew he didn't deserve it was far, far worse. But, weak as he was, he couldn't bring himself to push Giles away. With Giles' chest hair scratching softly against his back and Giles' heat diffusing into him, he grew calmer in spite of himself.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled when he felt capable of speaking again.

Giles gave a quiet snort that Wesley couldn't interpret and tightened his arms for an instant. "Will you be all right now?"

Wesley nodded, and wished he hadn't when Giles withdrew his arms and shifted away, preparing to go to sleep. But he was calmer, so the whimper of disappointment that formed in he chest ended up as only a slight tightening of his throat. He followed Giles' lead and tried to settle in to sleep, but his mind refused to stop worrying over whether he'd done a good enough job pleasuring Giles or if his breakdown at the end had ruined things irrevocably. He didn't want to spend another night in Giles' bed only to be dismissed again in the morning.

"Rupert?" he whispered, half-hoping Giles was already asleep and he could convince himself that talking would have to wait.

Giles' "Hmm?" was sleepy but prompt.

"Are we... lovers, now?"

Giles went very still for a moment, and then his fingers brushed Wesley's cheek. "Wesley," he said, when Wesley turned to look at him, "I don't want to mislead you. This isn't love. It's sex, and companionship, both of which are generally lacking in a Watcher's life, but we've barely known each other a week. I don't love you."

It wasn't the outright rejection he'd feared, but something in Wesley died at Giles' words. He managed to keep the hurt off his face and out of his voice as he said, "I understand. I just--didn't know what to expect. I shouldn't have disturbed you."

Giles touched his shoulder briefly. "It's quite all right. We can discuss this more tomorrow, if you like."

Wesley nodded. "Tomorrow, yes. Well, good night."

"Good night, Wes."

Wesley rolled back over and stared into the dark. It was sex, which was something he'd never had much of before, and moments like the one earlier, when Giles was just holding him and soothing him, were worth almost anything, even if he didn't deserve them. And to be wanted as a body was better than not to be wanted at all. Still, a nagging discontent kept him awake until he placated it by pressing against Giles' side and letting the rise and fall of the older man's chest lull him like a rocking boat.


End file.
